It was a hard kiss, almost angry, teeth knocking against lips and his stubble scraping her cheeks. Madeline gave a little squeak ofsurprise, nearly forgetting to close her eyes. The tip of his tongue danced along the seam of her lips, and Madeline opened for him almost without thinking twice. His tongue delved inside, hot and velvety in a way that sent a surge of desire curling in her stomach like an ache. She recognized the feeling now and was a little horrified to realize that she was almost helpless in the face of it.
Her arms went around his shoulders almost before she could think twice, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to her. That was what she wanted—closeness. Although he was already kneeling in front of her, his body pressing hers into the low sofa, and yet it was somehow still notclose enough.
They broke apart, with Madeline drawing in a rasping, almost panicked breath. She barely had time for a glimpse of his face—eyes dark and ravenous, his lips reddened from their kiss—before he leaned forward once more, this time fitting his lips to the spot just beneath her ear. There seemed to be a direct line from that spot to the join of her legs, and Madeline was shocked to hear herself moan aloud, sensation rushing through her.
He chuckled, lips flush against her skin, and the rumble of his voice echoed through her body. She shifted, trying to gain the upper hand in the situation—if therewasan upper hand—but he moved in response, curling a hand over her knee and pushing her thighs apart.
Madeline obeyed with a shiver. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations. As before, he slipped his hand underneath her skirts, the material crumpling between them. His weight pushed her down into the sofa cushions, not in away that would knock the breath out of her, but in a curiously arousing way.
I like his weight on me. Is that strange?
Tristan did not bother with teasing this time. He slid two fingers against the join of her legs, a practiced move, and familiar heat flared. Madeline let out a shuddering keen, keeping her eyes closed.
He touched her as he had before, and she felt the climax building again, quite predictably.
Then he slipped one fingerinsideher, and the sensation changed. Madeline’s eyes opened, searching for his face.
He had pulled back a little and was watching her carefully.
“Uncomfortable?” he inquired, as calmly as if he were offering her a slice of cake.
“No,” she answered honestly enough. “Only different.”
He nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again. He tasted of mint and whiskey. Why on earth was he drinkingwhiskeyat this time of the day?
His finger inside her twisted, bringing back the pulse of pleasure in a strange, inward sort of way. There was an element of theclosenessMadeline had craved. Was this what she had wanted?
His movements sped up, purposeful and efficient. Madeline wanted to ask him why he was doing this, why he was so keen for her to behis, but the words simply wouldn’t come. She gasped, eyes shuddering closed again, and clutched at his shoulders for support. He pressed his weight into her again, lips against her neck, and growled, low in his throat.
His hand twisted and slid against her, and she reached her peak with a stifled cry, putting her palm over her mouth as before. The pleasure came in waves, gradually fading until she could think clearly again, and then spiraled back down to earth.
Tristan still leaned against her, his breath warm against her neck.
“You always try to stay quiet,” he murmured, so quietly she nearly did not hear him. “I would rather you did not.”
“Anyone could come in,” she managed at last, swallowing. It seemed pointless to mention that they were locked in.
Tristan pulled back. His face was red, his eyes still dark and hungry. He grinned, withdrawing his hand from underneath her skirt, and thoughtfully placed his fingersin his mouth. There was a flourish in his gesture, as though he was particularly keen that she could see.
“Anyonecouldcome in,” he agreed. “And that, my dear duchess, is half of the fun.”
Color rushed to Madeline’s face with an intensity that led her to think that her head might explode. Feeling crumpled, red, and somehow notentirelysatisfied, she shifted, pulling herself upwards on the sofa.
“We should be careful,” she insisted, still feeling rather wobbly. “I would like us to be careful. I… I am very grateful for your services, but…”
“Services? Have a care, duchess. If you start talking of services and favors, I might start to demand some ofyou,” he responded tartly.
Madeline felt like a clodhopping fool. She closed her eyes, momentarily riding out her embarrassment.
While she was regaining her composure, Tristan heaved a sigh. When she opened her eyes, he was staring off to the side into the fire, a light frown on his face.
“I suppose I should not blame you for not wanting to let me near you,” he murmured. “My reputation isnotgood.”
“Well, you wanted the same thing, didn’t you?” she shot back. “You wanted nothing to do withme. What changed?”
His gaze fixed on her again. With the firelight flickering over his face, there was a thrilling darkness there that made her shiver.
“Changed? You think I havechangedin that regard? Oh, my dear duchess, you do not know me at all, do you?”
